Bleach Moments
by rabid-bunnies
Summary: oneshots of Bleach. mostly IchiRuki.
1. protector

* * *

**Disclaimer:** BLEACH and its character do not belong to me.

Two porcelain skins touched in the rain, the wind blew an icy breeze that whispered the promise of colds in the future, but for one moment the world stopped spinning and gazes locked.

A man in a black outfit suited for a death god, held an injured woman in his arms. He told her to stay back, that he could handle this one. Oh how foolish he is, he must know that she too is stubborn. It has been so long since the rain had poured or perhaps it just seems like that to him.

Things were different the moment she entered his life. They got complicated and he wasn't so sure he wanted it that way. But every time he started an objection, a single glance her way and he'd stop. Those dark orbs held a hidden plea, the same one he locks within his chest.

Would it have been better to end it before? Maybe then she would not be bleeding from a clear hole straight through her torso.

He couldn't even protect her, breaking the unvoiced promise he made to himself.

"Rukia…"

And he ran as fast he could to the clinic he knew so well, praying it wasn't too late. Begging the gods as he ran to save this precious life that has yet to see the wonders of the world – has yet to see her own worth.

Her eyes that concealed her true thoughts let their veil fall for a bit. They spoke the words that she couldn't voice, in fear that she would choke on the iron taste in the back of her throat.

A quiet apology and he stared back at her with an emotion that she couldn't quite place.

"I know."

That was Kurosaki Ichigo for you, blunt and rough on the outside but still human underneath.

He knew her and for that reason he couldn't let her die. She belonged with him, even if only for a short time again. Death would have to try harder if it wanted its princess back.


	2. cake

**Disclaimer:** Bleach is property of Tite Kubo. I do not own anything except the words.

"Oi, Rukia" spoke a fifteen-year old orange haired boy.

He got no response, so tried once more.

"Oi, Rukia!" This time with a little more umph, that is.

Said woman turned to the previous screaming boy with a dangerous glint in her azure orbs.

He was disturbing her right when it was getting to the good part. Yamaki and Takashi were just about to step foot into the haunted mansion. Everyone knows that's when the real story begins – blood was guaranteed to be spilt.

"What do you want?"

Oh goodness, that tone, he had obviously interrupted something important.

He turned from his geometry homework to glance at her, curious as to what she was all shaken up about.

A horror manga lie in the young woman's hands, cradled like precious material.

Ichigo never understood what she saw in those books.

There is a high possibility that he may get punched in the face for his next actions, but he figured why not.

"Exactly how old are you and when is your birthday?"

Rukia stared at him like he had another head growing from his skull with an are-you-serious look.

Then casually, she directed her perspective back to the manga in front of her and ignored him.

He patiently awaited her answer, though irritation was threatening to get the better of him.

After a pregnant pause, she spoke.

"A woman never reveals her age, Ichigo."

His features fell. That was a lame answer. He took a moment to collect his thoughts then shrugged it off. If she didn't want to tell him her age or when she was born, he'll respect that.

* * *

After school the next day, Ichigo told Rukia to go ahead of him and he'll meet her at home, he had a few errands to run. She eyed him skeptically, but complied. 

Two hours later, Ichigo arrived in his room with a cake in his arms. The raven-haired woman, that currently resides in his closet, quirked an eyebrow.

"What's with the cake?"

The boy said nothing, removed the cake from its box, and began cutting it.

Without observing and figuring if he ignored her he had his reasons, she continued reading her manga. Yamaki and Takashi were inside the mansion. As they continued their exploration for Dr. Hitori, a sudden, random breeze blew out their candle. The two teenagers let out frightened cries and frantically called to each other. Yamaki grabbed hold of Takashi or so she believed, but his arms felt so cold. "Takashi?" her voice was shaky. He responded and from the echo of his voice, she could tell he was not the one beside her.

"Oi, Rukia."

Damn it, not again. She decided to pretend she didn't hear that way he would probably leave her alone.

"Oi, Rukia!"

Shit, it's like some horrible déjà vu.

She turned and before she knew it…

Smack.

A slice of cake had hit her in the face.

Ichigo was on the floor clutching his stomach and cackling like he'd just saw the funniest thing ever.

"Happy Birthday, Rukia" he gasped between laughs.

She didn't understand what he meant and took a peak at the calendar on his wall.

It finally dawned on her – this was the day they had met.

She looked at him and he nodded as his laughter died down.

A rush of heat was going to his face and suddenly the vanilla carpet of his room was incredibly interesting.

If he thought he was off the hook just like that, he had another thing coming.

"Ichigo."

Said man turned toward the woman and…

Smack.

This is what he gets for being nice.

"Thanks."

Oh well, for that, it was pretty worth it.


	3. girly enough for you

**Disclaimer:** check previous chapters

The clock beeped 10 p.m. He swore they just had dinner but does not believe clocks lie, especially digital ones. To bed it will be, as soon as he done with the shower, teeth brushing routine. Then he would call out to the girl he roomed with, the free-loading death god who forced her way in (though he'd never admit it aloud.)

Tonight though, watching her go about getting ready, a unique thought crossed his mind and Ichigo wanted to blame lack of sleep. Her stiff walk and gruff voice shifted from familiarity to peculiar – it was odd, almost manly. She should look to Yuzu for the "modern studying" she does, being that it would be less suspicious. Ichigo pondered for a bit, wondering whether or not he should comment and if it would be even remotely right for him to do so. But before he settled on a choice, the words slipped as soon as said raven-haired woman was spotted and reflexes left him with his head down and shielded with a single hand.

"Excuse me?" what a way to be greeted right before bed.

It was quiet.

"What did you mean by that?"

Ichigo looked up at Rukia with the best puppy eyes he could muster.

"Nothing, just you know…" he drifted off hoping it sounded trifle.

"No, enlighten me." Her tone was harsh as she quirked a brow.

She was angry. Usually little comment like this would be brushed off like random dust particles, but tonight it seemed he wouldn't be so lucky.

"…well…" he swallowed visibly, "I can't really explain."

From the twitch in her eyebrow, he could tell she was not impressed, but more so agitated. Rukia glared at the bright-haired boy. He had the nerve to insult her, calling her of a manlike nature then expect her to brush it off as if he didn't just injure her pride. Okay, so she wasn't _that_ chesty or graceful, but did he not understand that death gods would not be able to survive in that conduct?

"Forget it."

She was much too tired and frustrated to deal with a recondite man-boy. He is such an idiot sometimes.

Ichigo turned toward her; she had looked more her age. Orange eyebrows converged, he actually felt bad. The teen passed another glance at the woman to check if her yielding was indeed just an attempt to guilt-trip him, but failed to see any deviousness in her current disposition.

Uh-oh, how the hell was he going to fix this?

Perhaps a night's duration would give him some hints. He figured sleep was best and resolution would harass his brain come morning.

* * *

Loud beeping jerked Ichigo from his dormancy just as his father kicked in the door, preparing for their early, senseless squabbling. The clock read 6:45. Crap, it was still too damn morning for this. He dodged the old man's kick, sending a punch to his face, earning himself a few words of praise of truly being his father's son. 

As soon as all the ruckus died down he called for Rukia, telling her they were going to be late if she didn't hurry. After a few patient, intermittent knocks, he opened the closet door with irritation. The clothes were still intact, but there was one missing shinigami.

She probably left without telling him again.

Stupid Rukia.

Oh wait, that's right, she was mad from the night before.

And it was his fault that he had yet to fix.

He could tell this was going to be a hell of a bad day.

Sadly, his predictions came true. As soon as he arrived at school, the formerly missing woman leeched herself onto his arm and with her sing-song voice told him they should get going. He stared at her wide-eyed, clearly questioning what the hell she was doing and if she was out of her mind. She looked back smugly, not caring what they appeared like at the moment. Like hell she was going to let him get away with that comment.

Ichigo was stuck with the "overly girly, fake-voiced" Rukia for the rest of the…week. She was pretty pissed off and damn obnoxious when she wanted to be. The poor boy would now learn to keep whatever comments he had of her to himself lest something like this were to happen again. Damn it, when they get back to school on Monday, he's going to have to fight off rumors of their supposed dating. Ichigo cursed his big mouth and Rukia's silent but deadly temper. Yes, this is the life he leads.


	4. picture for you

**Disclaimer:** same as previous

Picture for You

She stared at the ceiling and breathed a heavy sigh. Seemed lack of hollow attacks has made Rukia's life quite the dull. Also, it was summer so she no longer had the joy of frolicking around Karakura High while stealthily pestering a certain teenage boy.

No, she was currently stuck in said boy's house slowly going out of her mind while he was out with Keigo and Chad. Sure, she wanted to come along, but she received no invitation and Kuchiki Rukia was not one to freely invite herself (unless it was necessary of course). She told herself it was probably a "guy thing", something she read in a recent, contemporary teenage magazine.

Probably isn't that interesting, anyhow – she tried to cheer herself up.

_But definitely more productive than what I'm doing._

Rukia gave a groan from her tiny makeshift bed in the closet then scrambled up and about. To hell with this, she was not going to just mope around while that inconsiderate, citrus head was out having fun. No, now what was she going to do? Rukia was going to draw damn it. Yes, draw to her heart's content and with Ichigo's crayons too.

Oh god, perhaps boredom was giving her some sort of cerebral atrophy. But for the sake of doing something, she set up to draw.

Crayons and paper circled her on the vanilla carpet. The only problem now was what to draw. Rukia tapped her chin with a finger and slightly worried her lip. Then shone brightly as an idea hit her with sharp precision – it was perfect. The dark-haired shinigami colored madly, beginning her work of art.

Time flew as she eagerly continued and before her sat her masterpiece. Rukia decided it was a present for Ichigo. Ever since their first meeting, she hasn't really thanked him for taking part in their duties and supposed this was a sufficient equivalent. The man of her thoughts appeared some minutes later, looking weary making her wonder the time, but she quickly discarded the thought.

"I have something for you" she spoke.

He eyed her tiredly, "an attack?"

A frown tugged at the corner of her lips, "a gift."

The boy quirked an eyebrow as she handed over the paper.

Confusion was written in his eyes, but he accepted.

Shock was evident on his face.

Her "gift" was by far the most interesting to say the least of all he's received. Rukia's masterpiece was a portrait of the orange-haired shinigami substitute, suit and all, Chappy-style. He tried to repress his sudden urge to laugh, instead coughing out his thanks.

She looked at him with that glint in her eye. He assured her he was grateful knowing her reflexes toward those that tease her drawing skills.

They slowly drifted into comfortable silence, he fixing things up and she getting ready for bed. Upon approaching his picture, Ichigo let a rare smile grace his features.

He spoke breaking the silence.

"What's the occasion?"

The girl thought for a moment before responding.

"Just a thanks."

He was a bit confused

"For?"

She gave a shrug.

"For doing what you do."

Ichigo seemed to be in deep thought, still baffled then slowly understood. Kuchiki Rukia was an odd woman, but he wouldn't have her any other way.


	5. orihime

A/N: Orihime-centric and angst sort of…I don't really know. Reviews are appreciated. I'd like to know if the drabbles are stupid, entertaining, general, etc. Hopefully this is up to par with standards. My first attempt at capturing Orihime's character – still a little unsure.

Spoilers: Up to chapter six I suppose

It was cold today and she found herself there again.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the restless school day. Orihime had treaded down the stairs with Tatsuki, but took an intermission from their everyday routine. She hadn't felt like going home just yet.

Although she had no particular place in mind, her feet began their navigation and she ended upon the shore of the Karankura riverbank. Her brother, Sora, used to take her there after work and they would watch the sunset together. Those were her favorite moments, so peaceful and calming.

He died three years ago, she had never been more sad.

Not even when the kids at school made fun of her because her mom was a whore and her dad a drunk. She never cared because she didn't know those people; her brother took her away from such harm.

Sora was always looking after his little sister, almost as if their relationship wasn't brother -sister, but more father-daughter.

Orihime remembers the fateful day he left her. They were on bad terms and a goodbye was forgotten, tangled in childish indignation.

She regrets that moment the most, if only she had knew.

But that was paradox – if only she had knew she would have told him to phone in sick and stay home with her, where it was safe.

If she had done that she wouldn't be alone right now, but that was impossible because Inuoe Orihime was not a psychic. No, Inuoe Orihime is just a foolish girl who swims in the memories of her lost brother, trying to keep him alive.

Sometimes when she watches Ichigo her heart tugs because he reminds her of her brother. The way he gruffly scolds his siblings, shocking them into obedience, for the sake of protecting them. The way his eyebrows are always knitted causing him to have an angry expression at all times makes her laugh. The way his voice is hoarse even though the subtle lining of concern is obvious when you're familiar.

She wants to laugh at herself for daydreaming about such things.

Ever since, Rukia came things became adventurous and exciting, albeit dangerous. Her life took new paths and she got to meet new people.

Now is not the time to reminisce, she chided herself. Orihime took off at mad speed, racing home once she acknowledged the retirement of the sun and the sudden growling of her abdomen.

She had a lot of things to do now, but first she went to pray.

She told Sora of all the events that occurred and how nervous, scared she was of the upcoming.

She promised him she'd smile and live because Orihime knew that was what her brother would have wanted.

And she can now because people like Ichigo, Rukia, Chad, Ishida, and Tatsuki were there supporting her, protecting her.

Once she was done with her peanut butter-leek-water chestnut sandwich, she was going to train so she too can protect her friends.


	6. punctual

Disclaimer: no own Bleach

Setting: after Soul Society Arc

He stared at her from the other side of the room. She commenced reading her "research of the modern world", but really she was just reading manga and popular teen magazines.

Rukia was wearing Yuzu's bunny pajamas and though he never really noticed until now, Rukia was pretty interested in bunnies.

He silently laughed at the thought, letting a rare smile cross his features as the only sign.

She's a death god whose weak point was those furry, long-eared animals on sale at pet stores.

It was odd, but Ichigo found himself wondering whether or not she had one of her own, if not maybe… He frowned uncertain about his train of thought, maybe he ate something bad. The catalyst let out a slight giggle from her place spread out on the floor next to his closet.

Well she was in a good mood and he wasn't so sure about that.

Her usually dull black hair found a nice shine today and it looked silky to touch.

Strangely watching her was comforting.

Ichigo is glad he made it on time.


	7. summer

Disclaimer: same as previous chaps

**Summer**

The sun was glowing brightly like divine celestials on an October night.

The boy with an orange bush on his head let out a satisfied yawn. Glancing at the digital clock on his nightstand, he read the time - 12:00 p.m.

Yes, this was how it should always be. No teenager should have to get up before noon.

Contradictory to his inner joy, Ichigo got up with an impassive face. Though to those who knew him it meant a good day.

The ex-death god whom currently roomed with him was no where to be found. So common of her to do so, the woman couldn't even leave a note, not that he was worried.

This was his break he should be allowed to rest and besides the dark-haired pint knew her way home.

When she was ready to come back, his window would be open with a cup of lemonade on the desk just to show what they did today.

He knew how she hated being left out.


	8. reminiscent

**Disclaimer:** no own BLEACH

AN: Finally, it's posted. My account has been f'd up for awhile. Now, I present to you Rukia angst.

The luminescent pale glow of her cellular phone light accentuated her porcelain features in the dark closet. There haven't been any signs of hollow attacks all night and the possibility was low.

Perhaps that meant they were lucky, available to a full night of sleep first in three weeks.

Or maybe she was just unlucky.

Rukia had problems sleeping. Not so much that she was an insomniac, just nightmares jerk her awake at ungodly hours of the early morning. She had been tossing and turning for the last hour or so and still no progress.

She was restless.

Her mind has been occupied with not-so-fond memories and newly developed thoughts of the men she preferred to forget. She knew they were not the same, but they were similar in their likeness of brusque natures and rash behavior – she really couldn't stand it.

The thing that unsettled her was the semblance of her former lieutenant when she looked at Ichigo. No matter how much she told herself the citrus-haired teen was himself – one of a kind – she still saw the man she killed within his muddy depths.

From the intense snoring reverberating through the door, it was obvious Kon was on the other side. Rukia half-wondered if she should wake him to keep her company, but decided against it, he seemed tired.

She opened the closet door, careful not to wake the sleeping lion plush resting against it, and moved over to the window. The sky was beautiful today with its many bright celestials accompanying the majestic moon.

It was full tonight, she absently noticed.

Normally, she wouldn't be doing this, so it was actually quite a pleasure, though one she inclined not to indulge in. When left in tranquility, Rukia was alone with her thoughts.

She sighed then climbed to sit atop the windowsill, resting her head against the cool glass. It was nights like these, she hated the flashbacks flickering behind her eyelids like black and white movies.

Worthlessness was what she felt inside her beating chest, undeserving.

Those green eyes looked at her with regret and sorrow as life fluid drenched both their cloaks and dripped between her harsh, shaking grip. The sight and smells of that night, she could still remember it.

She could never forgive herself; it didn't matter that he already did. With Ichigo, Rukia feared it would be a repeat of the past.

Even though she told herself it was different, it still looked the same to her.


	9. familiarity

Disclaimer: Who owns_ Bleach_? Tite Kubo, that's who.

"Hey!" The petite woman berated the orange-haired teen.

"Stop leaving your dirty clothes in the closet. I sleep there, you know."She growled, frustrated at having to toss the smelly pile into the hamper for him _as if_ this was the first time. __

Lazy bum, she inwardly grumbled.

"I remember," he spoke nonchalantly, flipping through some comic book she him leisurely attend to when he was on a homework break.

Was that a _tone_? He's always made it pretty clear how he felt about rooming with her. Rukia's shock quickly dissolved into a deep scowl as she stalked her way over to thwack the boy over the head.

He blinked at her fiercely, grabbing his wounded cranium.

"What the hell was that for?!" he bellowed.

She smirked.

"You should respect your elders, Ichigo."

He glared at her back as she walked away, absently catching the swagger in her hips. Scoffing, Ichigo returned to his comic.

Another day, another argument.

He'd never admit it, but he liked her better like this rather than when she bottles it and jets away before anyone can get a word in about it. He knows what it's like and he's glad she's back to normal.


	10. sisterwatching

Disclaimer: Crayolas = not mine. _Bleach_'s in the same boat.

"Hey, I need you to stay home tonight, boy."

The older Kurosaki shot his teenage son a serious stare.

"You understand? I have to stay late today – a patient, bunions, surgery – it's a long story and a first for me."

The man paused in his speech, realizing he was ranting and by the cringe on his son's face, offering too much information.

"Anyway, someone has to stay home to watch Yuzu and Karin; they're too old for a babysitter and you're available and it's a good time to test your responsibility…You get the picture."

He gave Ichigo's sun-kissed locks a quick ruffle and left. Ichigo pulled a face at the request that wasn't so much a request but rather an order.

How the hell was he going to go hollow hunting (and occasional whacking) and watch his sisters at the same time? Well, there was always Kon, but the stuffed doll couldn't pull this stunt off alone if his tried. Already, Ichigo could picture him reading porn while his sisters watched that stupid Don Kan'onji show, crazily bellowing "bwahaha" along with the host, oblivious to their surroundings.

Damn - and now's when Rukia comes into the picture. A scowl pulled at the corner of his lips as his eyebrows twitched with annoyance, the shinigami substitute grudgingly trudged up the stairs to his room to ask the dark-haired woman for assistance in tonight's "watch".

"Didn't we already have this discussion?" she asked exasperatedly.

He just had to come when she was bursting with creativity. The sixty-four pack of Crayolas lay exposed and untouched.

It was such a good idea too, she frowned, unable to recollect her memory.

"You have to be dedicated to complete this job." She spoke more to the blank sheet of paper than to Ichigo, but he could care less.

"I know," he sighed and started, but she interrupted.

"And I know how important your family is to you, so yeah. Just…when we get a signal, you better be ready."

Ichigo stared dubiously at the petite woman. For all the time he knew her, she's never been one to give in so quickly. But who was he to speak and ruin a submission in _his_ favor?

"Thanks, Rukia."

He offered a half smile and left in search of the two siblings he had control over for the night.

"Yeah, whatever," she responded belatedly, ignoring the sudden warmth in her chest. Grabbing a purple crayon, she decided fuzzy bunnies would look great skating on ice.


End file.
